Haunted
by BrynnH87
Summary: Leonard McCoy moves to a fixer-upper in Iowa after a particularly nasty divorce. Little does he know that the former owner still 'lives' there. There is a slash version of this on AO3 which is actually the inspiration for my first original story through Dreamspinner Press.


Haunted

He struggled his few remaining possessions onto the wrap around porch as he muttered about how his wife had gotten the whole damned planet in the divorce…at least most of Georgia…hence the move to Iowa. He had scoured the internet for a place of his own that he could afford…far from everyone he knew (most of whom blamed him for the divorce…thanks to Jocelyn)…where he could lick his wounds. He had found this house. A beautiful old farmhouse just outside of Eldora. One hundred acres of his own. No neighbors for miles. It had seemed perfect. He contacted the agent and paid the ridiculously low price without even thinking about it.

Now that he was here, it was obvious that the picture on the internet had been of the house in better times. "Maybe twenty or thirty years ago," he mumbled unkindly, as the front screen door came off in his hand. "No wonder the real estate agent seemed surprise by my interest. Probably laughing his fool head off, all the way to the bank, with the last of my money."

There was nothing he could do about it now. It really _had_ been the last of his money and he had nowhere else to go. So, he wrestled the last suitcase into the foyer. He did have to admit the house had potential. Beautifully carved molding adorned the top and bottom of every wall... well, what hadn't fallen down and was now lying in heaps on the floor. The staircase was made of sturdy wood and was obviously beautiful once. Hardwood floors decked the foyer, living room, and study. The internet ad had mentioned that the house was furnished. That was one of the features that decided him on this particular dwelling. He had no money to go buy a bunch of furniture and had never really been very picky about what his furniture looked like, so he was sure that whatever was here would be fine.

He was wrong.

What was here was a rickety sofa and chair, covered with sheets which were layered with probably literally years of dust. As he took the sheet off the sofa to inspect the natty thing, he had to fight through the tears in his eyes and the coughing fit induced by all the dust now in the air. 'Probably should have taken the sheet off just a little more slowly,' he thought and would have said out loud to no one if he could have caught his breath. 'At least the sheet kept most of the dust off the actual sofa.'

As ancient furniture went, he guessed the sofa and chair were passible. When he could finally bring himself to sit on them, he found they held his weight…which was really all he was asking for. He wouldn't really be in here much, he figured. Which was probably a good thing, because as he looked around, he saw no place to hook up cable or a telephone. He had a cell phone, and he wasn't really much for TV anyway, so he figured he could deal with that.

He inspected the study and found a large desk and old oaken chair. Shelves adorned the walls and when he pulled off the sheets that had been nailed up, he found a wealth of old, mostly leather-bound books. His estimation of the previous owner just went up. Obviously, someone who lived here had loved to read…or at least to collect…all the classics. He pulled himself away and decided he'd peruse the collection later. Maybe he could sell some of these to get some necessities until he started his new job.

As he went through the living room again, on his way to the staircase, he looked at the sofa and chair. The sheets were covering them again. "I thought I left those off." He said out loud. At least there was no dust this time. 'Well, of course there wouldn't be,' he thought. 'I just don't remember putting them back on like that.' He muttered to himself. "Gettin' old, Len."

He had planned to go upstairs since he had to bypass the staircase to get to the back of the house, but as he set foot on the first step, he hurt a noise out back and went to investigate. The screen door of the kitchen opened to a large backyard with a large outbuilding. The screen door was now banging in the wind. 'Funny,' he thought, 'I don't see the tree's moving. There doesn't seem to be as much as a light breeze.' He shook himself out of his thoughts and secured the door as best he could, then looked around the kitchen.

Cabinets that had once been in style, looked lonely and worn out. There was an island counter with a marble top which was probably in the best shape of anything in the house. The floor was tiled and would probably last a little while longer, though numerous tiles were coming (or had already come) loose, so he had to watch his step. "Leonard, my boy, what _have_ you gotten yourself into."

He made his way upstairs and was pleased that only one step gave way under his weight. There were three large bedrooms. Two were obviously children's rooms…both boys…done in various shades of blue with twin beds and model airplanes and spaceships hanging from the ceiling. Once again, he had had to take off the sheets to see the actual furniture, but this time, he made a point of putting them back over the beds and desks since he didn't plan on using these rooms, anyway.

He finally arrived at the master bedroom, expecting much the same and was taken aback. It was gorgeous. There was a large, ornate wall opposite the door that didn't seem to be of any use other than decoration. It was a bit lavish for his liking, but he had to admit the craftsmanship was exquisite. What was even more striking however was queen-size bed. Not only was it also beautifully crafted, it was in excellent condition. It wasn't covered with a sheet and there didn't seem to be a bit of dust in the whole room. 'The realtor must have come and cleaned out at least this part of the house knowing I'd need to be able to use the bed right away,' Leonard thought and then put it out of his mind as he went to get the luggage he had left in the foyer.

0o0o0o0o0

Once he had unpacked, he drove his truck into Eldora, hoping to get some staples as well as to meet his coworkers in the tiny hospital in which he had accepted a job as a doctor. He had numerous years' experience working in the hospital in Atlanta, but he had never worked in a small town before and wasn't truly sure what to expect.

He apparently had mixed reviews among the staff. Some of the reactions included the stereotypical standoffishness he had heard that small town residents could present to outsiders, but others were quite friendly (one nurse about his age a little too much so, he thought). The small talk included what brought him to Iowa (which he answered truthfully, but not completely). "I needed a change of pace," He had replied.

"Well, you're certain to get that if you're used to big city medicine." One helpful female doctor –Barbara Lake - had responded. "We mostly just get routine injuries…sometimes horrific farm injuries…but usually just broken legs and the like."

He had answered that he thought that might be just what he needed for a while, and the conversation turned to where he was living. When he started to describe the place, the woman gasped. "You bought the Kirk house? I had heard that it was sold but I thought that was just a rumor. I didn't think anyone would actually _buy_ that place."

"Well, I do admit it's awfully run-down, and it's _not_ what the picture on the internet looked like, but it's not _that_ bad." Leonard had felt that he had to defend the place. "It's really got great potential for anyone who could invest in fixing it up."

"It's _haunted,"_ blurted one of the nurses who had been attracted to the conversation when Dr. Lake had gasped.

"Oh come on," Leonard couldn't help but show his cynicism. "You don't really believe that do you?"

"It's true," another nurse had answered. "It has been for years."

Leonard just raised a skeptical eyebrow, so the woman continued, "Jim Kirk died there…was murdered really…and _no_ one can go there now without all sorts of strange things happening."

Unbidden, Leonard remembered the sheets on the sofa and the door blowing in nonexistent wind, but then put that out of his mind. "I don't really believe in ghosts." He answered instead.

The conversation had turned to other things and that was the last he thought about it until he returned home and found that the front screen door was hanging right where it should be, sturdy and locked…where it _would _have been, had he not leaned it against the house when it came off in his hand earlier.

0o0o0o0o0o0

After he unpacked the groceries he had bought in town, he settled into the study to look at the books that had fascinated him earlier. There really was quite a collection here. All lovingly preserved. That brought his thoughts to the previous owner. Jim Kirk, the nurse had said.

"Well," he said to no one, "If your taste in books is anything to judge by, I think I would have liked you, Jim Kirk." He didn't notice as the drapes moved slightly in the still air.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Over the next couple of weeks, enough odd things happened at the old house that Leonard was starting to question his disbelief in ghosts…or at least his sanity. He still put all the noises and moved objects down to an overactive imagination, but he kept hearing stories at work about all the _hauntings_ in the last fifteen years, and it was starting to get to him.

At first, he had put the noises down to an old house settling, but they weren't always those kinds of noises. There were creaks and moans, yes, that would fit into that description, but there were also flushing noises from unoccupied bathrooms, alarm clocks going off for no reason, even the smoke detector a couple of times with no hint of smoke anywhere. Leonard had told himself that plumbing becomes faulty in abandoned houses, and low batteries in alarms and smoke detectors could conceivably make them go off. Or at least that's what he kept_ trying_ to tell himself.

That still didn't explain the other things, though. Books that he was sure he left on the desk were mysteriously replaced in their rightful niche in the bookshelves. The sheets in the living room insisted on replacing themselves on the furniture. The screen door had come off and been inexplicably replaced several times now, while the back door was determined to bang in still air. He was trying _not_ to lean toward the ghost explanation, but was finding it hard to find another one.

But these weren't the kind of things he expected from the stories he had heard about his supposed ghost. From what he had heard, numerous teenagers had, over the years, tried to stay here on a dare, or came to deface the place or to steal tools from the detached garage/carpentry workshop out back. They had all be run off by flying objects and pushes by unseen attackers. One youngster had broken a leg he attributed to the ghost of Jim Kirk swinging a lamp at him. Of course, friends who had been with him at the time said that, while the lamp really did swing at him with no earthly wielder, the boy had fallen down the stairs running away in fright and that's when he had actually broken his leg.

Still, though, the stories spoke of a violent, malevolent spirit and, while Leonard had to grudgingly admit that there was _something_ going on that he couldn't explain, he didn't see anything malevolent about any of it. What was malevolent about replacing books or furniture covers, or keeping the master bedroom meticulously dusted and cared for, for fifteen years? What was violent about fixing screen doors and replacing the knob on the staircase banister? Leonard had even found the loose tiles in the kitchen replaced in their proper spots on the floor…not glued in, but just sitting there. On one occasion when he didn't obsessively clean up after he had hastily assembled and consumed a sandwich prior to crashing after an unusually long and crazy day at work, he had been greeted the following morning with a sparkling kitchen with the plate and knife washed and placed in the drainer and the peanut butter stored back in the cabinet.

He was finding it harder and harder to deny the existence of a ghost in his house, but he just couldn't reconcile these events with the stories he had heard. Of course, stories of that type had a way of embellishing themselves over time. If there was once any truth to any of these stories, Leonard figured it had long ago been buried in mystique and yarn-weaving.

He finally decided to assume the ghost existed and tried to make peace with it. After all, it hadn't seemed to wish him ill will. It didn't seem to be trying to get him to leave or frighten him in any way. It just seemed to want the house kept in good shape. McCoy figured he could help with that.

He made sure he put back in their rightful place any books he started reading. "Is it okay if I put a bookmark in this before I put it on the shelf?" He had asked the ghost he still didn't completely believe in. When nothing happened, he figured it was okay to leave the bookmark in the book, and replaced it on the shelf.

He decided that the reason the screen door kept falling off after the ghost had fixed it was probably due to the fact that all the ghost could do was replace the screws that were in the rusty hinges. They had already pulled away from the wall, so just putting them back in the holes wasn't really helping. So, McCoy bought new hinges and screws and new wood for the door facing. He wasn't as good with wood as the original craftsman and the door frame would be considerably plainer, but it would be new and solid and would hold the screws in the new hinges so that the screen door wouldn't fall off again.

Leonard cleaned up his mess and went into the kitchen to get a drink, and found the pitcher of iced tea he had made earlier sitting on the counter along with a glass.

"I'll take that as a 'thank you' for hanging the door." He called to Jim and downed the tea. "And thank you for the tea."

0o0o0o0o0

He made a point of asking about Jim Kirk when he went to work the next several days. After he got past the ghost stories that everyone seemed to have in abundance, he started to hear about the remarkable young man in life.

The more the older man learned about Jim Kirk, the more he admired him. He was the younger sibling by eighteen months, but always seemed to adopt the role of protector where his older brother Sam was concerned. Jim was brilliant and was skipped ahead in school. He was actually in the same grade as Sam, which seemed to just offer more opportunity for Jim to protect his brother. The younger Kirk was always getting into fights, almost always in defense of someone weaker. While he never started a fight, he didn't shy away from one either. He wouldn't stand for anyone picking on his brother, or anyone younger or unable to take up for themselves. Everyone had stories to tell about the Kirk boys. Quiet Sam and his champion Jim, the good-hearted 'bad boy'. No one crossed Jim without damned good reason. Once the boy got it in his head that something needed to be done, nothing on earth could stop him from doing it. "No wonder he's still rattling around that old house," Leonard thought, figuring there was something Jim had decided he needed to do, and was not even letting death stop him. 'I think I like this boy.'

0o0o0o0o0o0

He found he quite liked fixing up the house, and the fact that the ghost seemed to be grateful was a big bonus. Leonard replaced the tile in the kitchen, refaced the cabinets with new doors and a fresh paintjob, and refastened the knob on the banister of the staircase. The ghost had showed some sign of appreciation each time.

When he ran out of repairs he felt he could do by himself, he started to puzzle out some of the other things his ghost seemed to be bothered by.

"Okay, Jim," He started. "What's with the sheets on the furniture?" He didn't expect an answer as he pulled the sheet off the sofa. "It's not like the stuff is in mint condition."

After a couple seconds, a frame appeared to fall off the bookshelf, but then floated toward him. He briefly wondered if the ghost was trying to throw it at him or hit him with it, but it didn't seem like what he had learned of Jim Kirk. He raised his hand, palm upturned, and wasn't really surprised when the frame landed gently on top of it. When he looked at the picture, he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing at first. It was a picture of a young man and woman, probably newly married. The man wasn't Jim, if his obituary picture that Leonard had looked up was any indication, but it looked remarkable like him.

"Parents?" McCoy didn't know how he expected the ghost to answer him, but he asked anyway as he continued to look at the picture. The couple was sitting on the very sofa he was standing in front of. He looked closer at the tattered piece of furniture and noticed that the craftsmanship seemed to have the same feel as the woodwork and ornate wall in his bedroom. Leonard had discovered in one of the many stories about the Kirks that the elder Mr. Kirk was a wizard with wood. It seemed he could do anything he wanted with the medium, and loved to just work for the sheer pleasure. He also had a Carpentry business, which Jim had taken over after his father's death.

"Your dad made the furniture?" An unseen breeze caught the drapes behind the sofa and Leonard took that to mean 'yes'. "Would it be okay if I bought some furniture covers that would fit a little bit better than the sheets? They'd look nicer, which would make me happy, and would still protect the beautiful work your father did on these." The drapes moved again, and McCoy vowed to look into some covers soon. And possibly another sofa that he could actually lounge on to read, so that he wouldn't take a chance of hurting the ancient family heirloom.

0o0o0o0o0o

The next several days found Leonard in the local library pouring through microfiche of fifteen year old newspaper clippings. He wanted to learn more about what happened to the man with whom he was sharing a house. What he found was quite interesting.

Despite the appearance of the photo in the obituary notice, Jim Kirk was not a teen, even though he looked quite young, but had died at the age of 23. His parents had owned the house until 3 years before Jim's death, when they, themselves, had died under mysterious circumstances. Jim had left college and moved back to the family home. He tried to keep it up, as best as he could alone, because he thought his parents would have wanted that. He had taken over his father's carpentry business since his older brother, Sam, who had always been groomed for the position had disappeared four years before the parents' death, during his senior year of high school. No one had thought that that was suspicious at the time - expect the parents, of course - until the George and Wynona Kirk also died. Once Jim, himself, had died, the local grapevine put everything down to a family curse. Leonard was surprised that, while at least three members of the family had died under less than natural circumstances, only cursory investigations had gone into any of the deaths. He couldn't help but wonder if that had anything to do with Jim haunting the place. He wasn't an expert, but weren't ghosts supposed to be people who had unfinished business? Maybe Jim wanted answers for his parents' (and his own?) death, and maybe even his brother's disappearance.

Leonard, who couldn't believe he was in the position of actually _wanting _to see a ghost, thought he'd ask Jim about all of this, if he chose to reveal himself again.

0o0o0o0o0o0

All doubt about the existence of his ghost was finally taken away one night around 2 in the morning.

Leonard had once again come home from an abnormally troublesome day at the hospital and had stripped quickly and fallen into bed, practically asleep before he hit the mattress. As tired as he was, though, something woke him at 2:00.

At first, he couldn't identify what had awakened him, and then he saw it…or rather, him. A young man ("Damn," he thought, "The kid looks like he's 17!") was standing in front of the ornate wall in the bedroom. Just standing…hip cocked with his hands hooked in his pockets, but looking like he had lost his last friend…well, that is… when Leonard could_ see_ his expression. The kid seemed to have a tenuous hold on solidity. He looked mostly there one second, and the next, Leonard could see the woodwork showing through the tattered tee-shirt and dirty jeans.

"You are the infamous Jim Kirk, I take it?" Leonard was too tired and too startled to realize just how silly it seemed to talk to what could still be a figment of his exhausted imagination…or in fact, actually just be a dream.

The figure nodded slowly and then disappeared.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

He didn't see Jim again for another three days, but in the meantime, the evidence of the resident ghost changed somewhat. He still kept the master bedroom and replaced any book Leonard had accidentally left out, but now there was a new layer of events. Leonard woke the day after seeing Jim's apparition, to see that his clothes, which he distinctly remembered hastily discarding in an uncharacteristic heap the previous night, had been folded and laid over the back of the chair, like Leonard usually did.

Three mornings in a row, now, Leonard had found a bowl of his favorite cereal poured and the milk sitting out on the counter…refrigerator still open. (Jim must have started the activity right as Leonard started down the stairs). Three evenings in a row, Leonard found a different leather bound book lying on the desk in the study. (Leonard took it as recommended reading).

On the third night, up in the master bedroom, Leonard decided to try something.

"Jim," He called. "You showed yourself to me once. Why not just appear again?" When he was greeted with silence, he continued. "Not that I don't appreciate all the little favors you've been doing for me, but I'd love to just talk to you."

When he had waited long enough to think Jim wasn't going to show himself…or perhaps wasn't always around and didn't hear his request, a ghost of a figure (Leonard groaned at the inward pun) appeared just in front of the bed. It was all Leonard could do to see him. He wasn't nearly as solid as he was the other night (even though that was really none too solid either, as Leonard recalled.)

"Thanks Jim," Leonard said sincerely. Jim smiled so the doctor continued. "I've been reading up about you." The older man was instantly sorry he said this, since the beautiful smile he had seen on the ghostly face immediately disappeared. But 'in for a penny, in for a pound,' he thought. "Is that why you're still around? You need to know what happened to your family?"

Exactly opposite of what the doctor was expecting, Jim shook his head 'no' and (judging from the hoarseness of his voice) spoke his first words in over fifteen years. "I already know." Then he disappeared.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was several more days before Jim appeared again, leaving Leonard plenty of time to wonder what the ghost had meant about already knowing. Maybe he misunderstood the question. Maybe he meant he knew they were all dead (or meant he knew Sam wasn't…that one could still go either way). Maybe he meant he knew who killed him but not his parents. But it was possible Jim knew the answer to all of it and had been unable to do anything about it for fifteen years. That would probably keep him there too, Leonard supposed.

So, the doctor threw himself into research again…running down every possible lead, every angle he could think of. It didn't take much to know that he was checking angles that the local police hadn't bothered with. There was only so much the doctor could learn from the papers and official documents, so he started asking around at the hospital and the few other places he frequented in town.

In addition to learning about the murders themselves, he learned more about the family, specifically Sam. Sam Kirk had been mild mannered, quiet. He hadn't had many friends…just Jim and one other boy. Lyle Fitzgerald. He and Lyle had been in the same grade in school as Jim and seemed unusually close. From what Leonard gathered, Lyle's father, the Chief of Police didn't like the Kirks much…but no one seemed to know why.

Sam had been predicted to be the Salutatorian to Jim's Valedictorian for their graduating class. Both seemed to be so excited about being able to share the honor, that everyone was completely dumbfounded when Sam left and never came back. Jim graduated alone and left for college. He would graduate from Harvard Business School just months before his parents died in a car wreck. He had come back to run the business, which was more successful than ever until his death three years later.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The next time Leonard saw his ghost, Jim was sitting on the bed when the doctor entered the master bedroom.

"Hi Jim," Leonard was genuinely pleased to see him. He wasn't sure when this became his life, but it now seemed perfectly natural to expect to see a ghost in his bedroom or to have chores done by the same usually invisible force.

"Hi," The boy looked a little more solid this time, the doctor noticed.

"Why so long between visits?" Leonard sincerely wanted to know.

"It's hard," was the simple answer. "I haven't quite mastered it yet."

"Seems like you're getting better." The older man noticed. "I can't see woodwork through you this time."

Jim just smiled.

"Why only in the bedroom."

"Stronger ties here."

"Why? Cuz you slept here?"

"Cuz I died here." And then he was gone.

In all of Leonard's research, he hadn't uncovered that fact. Why had no one thought to tell him that he was sleeping where that determined young boy had died?

0o0o00o0o0

In the next couple weeks, Leonard saw more and more of Jim. He seemed to be getting the hang of solidity. He was able to stick around longer each time and was more and more concrete. Leonard enjoyed just getting to know the ghost. They talked about anything and nothing.

"Hey," the ghost had said one evening as he lounged against the headboard of the bed, "You seem to know all about me, but I don't know much about you."

"What do you want to know, kid?" Leonard answered.

"First of all," the ghost smirked, "Don't call me kid. I'm older than you!"

"How do you figure?" McCoy enjoyed the banter. "Have you _looked_ at yourself lately? You _look_ about 17…if that!"

"Yeah, well. I was 23 when I died and that was 15 years ago, so that makes me 38. You're only 32, so I'm 6 years older than you. Definitely _not_ a kid."

"Oh yeah," the doctor rolled his eyes. "A veritable old man"

Another conversation had garnered McCoy an apparently lifelong nickname.

"So, you're a doctor," the ghost had started.

"A surgeon, yeah."

Jim's eyes lit up in that way that McCoy was beginning to realize meant trouble. "A sawbones, huh?"

"I guess that's one way to put it, yeah." Leonard had agreed, and has lived to regret it, since Jim now calls him 'Bones' almost exclusively.

Leonard told Jim he was trying to find out what happened to his family, and had tried to ask a couple of questions, but Jim didn't seem inclined to help, so McCoy usually just changed the subject. One night, he just couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"Hey, Jim." McCoy greeted as he entered the bedroom to see the ghost, once again, sitting on his bed. "I think I'm at an impasse on trying to find out about what happened to you and your family. I'd really like to help you with this. You said you knew what happened?" He hoped it didn't upset his friend too much to push the issue, but he felt so helpless and the more he got to know Jim, the more he wanted to help. When the ghost just nodded, Leonard sat beside Jim and continued, "Can you tell me?"

"It won't make any difference. You can't do anything about it."

"Why?"

"He's too powerful." Jim looked down, into his lap, with an expression that Leonard vowed he would keep off that face as much as humanly possible.

"Who's too powerful, Jim?"

"Chief Fitzgerald."

That threw him. "As in Chief of Police, Fitzgerald?" Jim nodded so McCoy continued. "Lyle's father? Sam's friend, Lyle?"

"Yeah," Jim looked up, "But I can't prove it. Dad tried for four years. He gathered all sorts of circumstantial evidence, but nothing that would hold up in court…if it would even ever get that far. He's the fricken chief of police…what's he going to do? Arrest himself?"

"He's not the Chief of police anymore Jim. He retired a year ago." Leonard saw just a little hope enter Jim's face. "Now…tell me what you've got."

"Meet me in the study." Jim said and then disappeared.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

By the time Leonard got to the study, papers were laid out all over the desk and the middle drawer (that had until now been locked) was still open. Some of the papers were the same newspaper articles that Leonard had found on his own, but laid out on the desk were also numerous journals, written by three different hands.

"These are Sam's and Dad's journals," Jim's disembodied voice said as first one, then another, journal moved toward McCoy, pushed by an unseen hand.

"Can you materialize here Jim?" Leonard asked, really wanting to see Jim as they talked about this. "I know it's hard outside the bedroom.

"I'm trying, Bones." The ghost answered and Leonard could see just a shadow of his friend start to form.

"You're getting stronger all the time, old man," McCoy smiled. "You'll get it. For tonight, though, why don't I just take these things up to the bedroom and we can talk about all this. It'll take me a while to read through them anyway. Might as well be comfortable. Both of us."

"Sounds good Bones," Jim said and then disappeared. 'Bones' was beginning to be able to tell if Jim was around, even if he didn't say anything, move anything, or manifest at all. There was just something different about the very 'feeling' of the room.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Back in the bedroom, Leonard read some of Sam's journal, asking questions along the way, but mostly the two friends just sat in companionable silence. Jim tucked up against the headboard with his legs crossed 'Indian style', and Bones sprawled across the rest of the bed on his stomach with the book opened in front of him.

When Bones suddenly smiled and said, "Yeah. I had wondered about that," Jim wiggled down the bed until he lay beside his friend.

"What?"

"Sam and Lyle were more than just friends." Bones looked at the ghost and winked.

Jim couldn't help but smile. "Yeah." But the smile faded, " In a time when that just wasn't okay."

"Daddy didn't much like it, huh?" McCoy's smile faded too.

"Lyle's dad didn't like it at _all!" _Jim agreed but then added, "Our dad was cool about it, though, when Sam came out to him. Dad said that he knew Sam was a good man and that had nothing to do with who he fell in love with."

McCoy nodded. He liked George Kirk already.

As the evening went on, Bones sank further and further into the mattress as he struggled to stay awake, reading the journal. He really did want to learn everything there was to know about the situation so that he could help bring this man to justice. For Jim. A niggling feeling in the back of his mind whispered that if this was the only thing keeping Jim here, and he solved that, then the ghost would go away. Bone's found that he didn't want Jim to go away. But he also felt that he needed to put Jim's needs in front of his own, so he continued reading, long past the point where he just wanted to call it a night and get some sleep.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The following days passed the same way. Bones reading the journals at night, with Jim keeping him company. Leonard was learning quite a lot from the journals.

Chief Robert Fitzgerald had caught Lyle with Sam, in the building behind the Fitzgerald house. Apparently the boys weren't complete clad at the time, and Robert had chased Sam away with a shovel. Sam left his shirt and was hopping into his pants as he left as quickly as he could. Apparently, the Chief had threatened to kill Sam if he ever came back on the Fitzgerald property.

It was only days later that Lyle went missing. In all of Bones' research, he hadn't uncovered that fact. Sam's journal said that Robert had reportedly sent Lyle to live with his Uncle in Myrtle Beach, but he wouldn't give Sam a name when the boy had stormed into his office at the police station and demanded to know where his friend (friend) was. The older man had told Sam not to expect Lyle to contact him. He had said quite a few other -very unkind –things too, but Sam got the message and left the office. He didn't quit digging though. He knew Lyle wouldn't voluntarily leave in the middle of their senior year. They had plans to go to the same college and once they were out from under Chief Fitzgerald's thumb, start a life for themselves. Sam tried everything he knew to find Lyle. He called every Fitzgerald and Martin (Lyle's deceased mother's maiden name) in Myrtle Beach but no one admitted to knowing Lyle, let alone having him at their house. He granted the possibility that they were lying, but couldn't figure out why Lyle hadn't simply called him by now. Short of being kept prisoner in whatever house he was staying in, Sam couldn't accept the idea that he wouldn't have found a way to call him – if only to tell him 'goodbye' if nothing else.

Sam was sure something untoward happened to Lyle, and was planning to set out to South Carolina to prove it. He made a point of telling everyone about his plans and when Chief Fitzgerald heard of it, he was furious. He came to the Kirk home – finding Sam in the carpentry shop behind the house - to tell the teen to leave his 'poor innocent boy' alone and to 'keep this perverted filth' to himself. Apparently the argument became quite heated and Mr. Kirk had become involved. Chief Fitzgerald actually became physical with both Sam and George, striking both repeatedly with a two by four he had picked up from the work table. He threatened murder if either of them tried to find Lyle or 'ever darkened his doorstep' again. Informing the Chief that, in fact, it was _he_ who was currently darkening the Kirk's doorstep didn't seem to go over very well.

Jim, himself, had seen the entire altercation from the back doorway. Only sixteen at the time, he wanted to join in the fight, even without knowing all of the details, but his mother had the good sense to try to keep at least one of her men safe. As soon as the Chief left, however, the teenager ran out to see about Sam. The older brother had a split lip and a rapidly swelling eye, but otherwise seemed to be okay. George was picking himself up off the ground by the time his youngest got there. He didn't seem to have any injuries that required an Emergency Room visit, either, so Jim had helped both Kirk men – already stiff and sore from the fight – into the house. Sam railed about filing a complaint and Jim seconded the motion, but George had reminded him that the Chief was probably _the_ most powerful citizen in Eldora and would either deny any such allegations, having a dozen alibis for the time period or would just pay off the judge to look the other way. It just wasn't worth the trouble it would cause, the older Kirk had reasoned. According to his own journal, he came to regret that decision almost immediately.

Three days later, Sam made good on his promise to set out for Myrtle Beach, and was never heard from again.

0o0o0o0o0o0

It didn't take long for Bones to finish reading George's journals. Apparently over the next four years, the older Kirk pieced together a good bit of circumstantial evidence to implicate the Chief in the disappearance of both boys. Repeated calls to produce Lyle fell on deaf ears, and when George confronted the other man in the police office just days after Sam's disappearance, the man's response was, "I didn't have anything to do with it, but if I did, no one would miss a fag like that anyway. The world's better off without him." Most of the other officers in the building at the time seemed to agree. The ones who didn't were trying to be inconspicuous in their lack of agreement.

It took quite a while, but George finally found a few policemen willing to talk to him…off the record. Several reported knowing about how angry the Chief was at Sam, blaming him for the entire 'affair' the boys had started. According to the Chief, of course, nothing had ever happened because his boy was stronger than the Kirk boy had given him credit for and was able to rebuff all of his illicit advances. Several of the policemen that Kirk had talked to said that, after storming around the station since Lyle had left, the Chief came in as happy as a clam the morning after Sam had reportedly set out for South Carolina…even _before_ they knew that Sam seemed to have disappeared.

One officer admitted hearing the Chief brag about how he had gotten rid of 'that Kirk freak', but like the other policemen, refused to appear in court or even fill out an avadavat. He said he knew better than to go up against the Chief and if the older Kirk knew what was good for him, he'd stop trying to, too. George reported in his journal that the officer's tone had been one of advice instead of warning or threat. Leonard looked throughout George's journal to see if he had actually named the witnesses to these incidents, but he hadn't. In one entry, he wrote that the only way any of them would talk to him at all is if he promised to keep their name out of any official or unofficial records of his investigation. Apparently, the older Kirk was a man of his word just like Bones knew the youngest Kirk was.

Years went by in the journals with leads getting fewer and farther between. George chronicled his remaining son's fits of depression caused by missing his brother. He reported Jim's graduation, and subsequent move to college where he was working on a business degree from one of the most prestigious schools in the country.

Then, things heated up again. A skeleton was found two miles south of town when the county was trying to expand their roadway into the adjacent woods. The coroner identified the body as that of a boy in his late teens and placed the time of death around that of the boys' disappearances but he stopped short of insinuating that the body was of either local boy. The corpse's face was smashed beyond use for dental records and the flesh was too decayed for fingerprints. George started making noise that it _had _to be either Lyle or Sam. The Chief continued to profess that Lyle was in South Carolina, but refused to produce any proof of that. Since George didn't have any real reason to think it was Lyle, the judge he had tried to get to court order the Chief to produce his son, told Kirk to drop it and go about his life.

More time went by. The Chief remarried and his young wife insisted on having an in-ground pool dug behind the Fitzgerald house, even though Robert had been adamant that he wanted no such thing. When the young woman secretly hired a construction company to dig the hole anyway, feeling that surely her husband would see that she was right and that a pool would increase the property value, another discovery was made. Under the dirt floor of an old out-building the crew had knocked down at the wife's urging, was a skeleton of another young male.

George thought for sure that, this time, _surely_ charges would be brought against the Chief. He skated again, though, finally calling a young man that _said_ he was Lyle and having him talk to the DA. He refused to bring the young man home in person, but the district attorney felt that with 'proof' that Lyle was fine and assurances (by the Chief, of course) that Sam 'knew better' than to ever set foot on the Fitzgerald property, that any thoughts of charges on such an honored member of the community should be dropped. They finally ruled that the body was probably that of an unidentified hiker who had stolen a night's shelter in the building. The fact that that made _no_ sense at all since the body was found underground and not just lying in the shed, seemed to make no difference to anyone in power.

George was succeeding in sullying the Chief's name, however. More and more residents of Eldora felt that he was probably right, that the Chief probably had _something _to do with the disappearances of both boys – though most stopped short of thinking the Chief actually _murdered_ them. Most citizens didn't buy the 'proof' that Lyle was alive or the story about the hiker, but no one was willing to go up against the Chief, even if they would have had more than just suspicion…which they didn't.

Once George was convinced that the original body had been Sam's, he scoured the remaining woods around the construction site. He finally found something that _he_ felt proved it was Sam. He found the boy's wallet not three hundred yards from where the body had been buried. George again tried to have the case opened as a murder but was told that anyone could drag a wallet in the dirt and say it was found in the woods.

George never gave up, and kept scouring the populous hoping to find someone – anyone- who heard or saw something that might bring enough doubt about the Chief to at least _charge _him with something. Kirk's last entry was that he finally found someone who was willing to say that she saw the Chief exiting the woods the night Sam supposedly left for South Carolina. Figure that by itself would probably not be enough, George reported that he was going to confront Robert. Wynonna Kirk insisted on going with her husband, hoping to be the voice of reason. It was on the way back from the Fitzgerald's when the Kirk's brakes let go and plunged the couple over the embankment of the particularly steep road leading away from the Chief's property.

0o0o0o0o0

All of Leonard's investigation had brought him to the police station, though he had really tried to avoid that for fear that many, if not most, of the officers would still be loyal to the former Chief. Dr. Lake from the hospital had recommended that Len contact Dan Steals at the precinct. She said she knew him personally and that he had moved into the area from Connecticut a couple of years before. No ties to the Chief at all.

When Leonard met the man, he liked him immediately. He was down to Earth and had a wicked sense of humor, along the lines of Leonard's own. Most importantly, though, he had a passion for getting to the truth. He was instantly intrigued by the twenty year old murders and vowed to help in whatever way he could. Toward that end, he was able to dig up some details about the older Kirks' car accident that was conveniently left out of any official report.

It seems that a mechanic who had inspected the car said that the brake lines hadn't just given way from lack of care, like the_ official_ report said, but had been deliberately cut. There was a tell-tail pattern of a specific cut that might possibly have been able to be matched to a knife if anyone had followed that lead. Another rumor laid to rest by evidence that never saw the light of day was that George Kirk was drunk that night and had simply run off the road. The coroner's report said that his blood alcohol level was zero. Jim himself had said that if it was taken at all, it would have _had_ to be zero unless someone spiked his drink without his knowledge. George, it seemed, was one of the last great teetotalers. Jim said the man had never so much as taken a sip of alcohol in the whole time Jim had known him.

Leonard left Dan to pursue the more official avenues of the investigation and he went back to reading the journals the ghost had given him.

Apparently, after three years of his own quiet search for evidence, Jim overheard in a bar in town, someone asking the Chief if he was worried about Jim's search. He had told the person that 'the brat' was nowhere _near_ as good an amateur detective as his father was, so he was not a threat at all, but if the kid happened to get lucky, he would just deal with the son the way he had the father.

Jim wrote that in his journal that night, made the mistake the next day of saying to a supposed friend that he had heard it, and was attacked that night in his own bedroom when he had come in from the workshop. Bones never asked Jim the details of that night, but the ghost _had_ said that he was hit over the head from behind and had no way of knowing who had actually carried out the deed, but that he had no doubt the Chief had been behind it. Leonard knew that Jim had been shot, not merely hit over the head, but if he could spare his friend the details, he would.

0o0o0o0o0

Weeks passed.

Jim was getting stronger all the time, as far as being able to manifest away from the bedroom. He even tried to leave the house now. The first time he did that will stay in McCoy's memory. The doctor had been painting the railing on the front porch and the ghost was talking to him from the doorway when Jim finally said, "Ah, screw it," and tried to come onto the porch.

He took one step, another, and Leonard found himself holding out his arms like a proud papa with a baby's first steps. Jim managed to make it to the front steps and then winked out. Neither McCoy, nor Jim could ever really explain why there was no warning to the sudden loss of energy, but when it happened, Jim usually ended up back in the bedroom.

"It's like I'm suddenly drained and really have no control over where…or if…I pop up," Jim tried to explain…not really understanding it himself.

But, over the next month or so, Jim became able to leave the house and wander around the yard or go to the garage/workshop out back. He could even go down the driveway a little…especially if Bones was around. He was starting to try his hand at woodworking again, but so far he didn't quite have the fine motor skills needed for that. There were daily improvements, though, so McCoy told the ghost that he'd be out remaking the trim for the doors and hallways in no time, and both friends looked forward to remodeling the house even more.

0o0o0o0o0o0

The men got closer and closer until Bones couldn't imagine a life without Jim in it, but he continued reading the journals and continued to urge Dan to dig for details, though neither were having any real breakthroughs. He had to do this for Jim. Even if it meant losing him.

Until one night, Jim grabbed the journal out of his hand. "I want you to stop reading these, Bones."

"Huh?" Bones just loved it when he was all articulate like that. "Why?"

"Because."

"Real well thought out reason, there, old man."

"Because…" Jim's voice hushed. "What if you're right, Bones? What if…once you figure out how to bring this guy down…solve the mystery…serve justice…whatever… what if once you do that…I vanish?"

"I've thought of that, Jim." Bones' voice was just as quiet.

"And you're doing it anyway?" Jim was incredulous. "Do you _want_ me to leave?"

The ghost started to pull away from his place beside Bones on the bed but McCoy caught his arm. "Dammit Jim, you _know_ better than that." But when he examined Jim's face, he had to add in a calmer voice, "Don't you?"

Jim shrugged one shoulder in that way he had that said he wasn't going to answer the question.

"Jim," Bones cupped the side of Jim's face. "I _want_ you here. You've _got _to know that." Jim didn't respond, so Bones continued. "Please tell me you know that."

Jim looked up. "Then why are you still doing this?"

"To try to bring you some peace if I can…even if it means ripping my own heart out when you go."

"I don't _want_ to go, Bones. I don't care about 'justice'. At this point, what does it matter? It's been fifteen years since my murder and around twenty for the others. Nobody _cares_ anymore who did what to whom."

"I care, Jim." Bones whispered. "This man took the life of one of the best people I've ever known…before I ever got a chance to meet him in the flesh. I _care_ about that, Jim. I want him to _pay_ for that!"

"Even if that means I have to leave?" Jim was starting to get agitated again. "I don't want to leave Bones!"

He closed the journal and looked at his friend. "God, Jim. It goes against my grain to let a murderer get away with anything, but if you want me to stop…I'll stop. I don't want you to leave, kid. I was just trying to do what was right for you."

"I think being here is what is best for me, Bones." Jim started, "And keeping you safe…and not adding another life to those taken because of this mess…that's what's best for me."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Apparently, all of Bones' previous inquiries had not gone totally unnoticed. He made the mistake of referencing something that could have only been learned from one of the Kirk's journals, but he didn't even think it was a mistake at the time. In fact, he didn't think much of it at all. That is, not until he saw the car behind him make the same last four turns he did and head out of town in a direction that could only lead it to McCoy's house and one other dwelling. When Leonard passed the other house and the car still followed, he began to worry. There were stretches of road here that could be dangerous if he were to be run off the road or shot at. He had a fleeting thought wondering… if he died here, would he be able to let Jim know somehow so that they could be together or would he be doomed to haunt this stretch of road alone while Jim was alone once more in the house. An overwhelming sadness came over him as his thought of never seeing his friend again.

He kept an eye on the rear-view mirror all the way past the dangerous stretch of road until he turned off onto his driveway. He breathed a sigh of relief as the car continued past.

He was still shaken up when he got home and Jim was immediately able to tell.

"Bones, what happened?" Jim greeted him at the door.

"I'm hoping I just have an overactive imagination. But, given all the people who end up dead when they start asking questions about Sam, I'm just not sure."

"Dammit Bones! You told me you stopped looking into that!"

"I _did_ stop. But I had asked a lot of questions before that. The guy isn't Chief anymore but people are still afraid of him. If he thought I was getting too close or something, or just didn't want the trouble... I don't know."

"It's been over _twenty _years, Bones." The ghost was incredulous. "Why would he want to commit another murder now after it's been so long? It's not like you can actually get anything on him that would hurt him at this point."

"There's no statute of limitations on murder, Jim." Bones pointed out. "If I had anything new…which I don't…I could really make trouble for him. Actually, probably more so now than your dad did twenty years ago. He's still powerful, but he's not the Chief anymore and some of the judges your dad thought was in Fitzgerald's pocket are no longer on the bench. Some of the younger judges might not be so quick to throw out the circumstantial evidence your dad had. And the new DA might try the case just for spite. Evidently, the DA is gay, too, and Fitzgerald made an enemy of him early on by calling him….well, you can imagine some of the things he called him."

"Bones, you've got to get the word to him that you've stopped looking into it!" Jim was getting frantic now. "Tell him you know he didn't do it. Tell him you just looked into it in the first place because you love a mystery but you've found now that there's none there. Anything Bones. Get him off your trail! God, you can't die now!"

Leonard put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey old man, calm down. I'll be careful, and I'll put out the word that I've stopped looking into it. I'm not going to lie and say I don't think the guy did it, but I won't make accusations either. Maybe it'll blow over."

"I hope so, Bones." Jim said quietly. "I don't think he'll give up so easily, though. All I had was circumstantial evidence and hearsay and he had _me _killed_!"_

"I know, old man. I know." Leonard decided not to bring up the whole possibility of not being able to be with Jim at all if they died in different places. "I probably just imagined the whole thing, Jim. It was probably just a lost tourist." Of course, McCoy didn't believe it for a minute.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Over the next several days, there were numerous times when Leonard felt like he was being watched or being followed. True to his word, he told people he would normally talk to about the mystery that he'd stopped looking into it. That there just wasn't anything to be done there, after all. It didn't seem to help any. McCoy got several threatening letters (typed on ubiquitous, untraceable paper of course). He was followed several more times, by different cars, as well as by the car he had noticed that first night. He had to wonder if this was all the work of one man, or if there were several people working here. If so, were they working _fo_r the former Chief or were they freelance…just trying to clear his name? Whichever way it was, it scared the crap out of McCoy (and consequently Jim).

They both tried their best to put it out of their mind, but it finally came to a head one Monday evening. Jim met McCoy as far down the driveway as he could manage. "Bones, he's here. He's trying to find the journals."

Leonard got his cell phone out and called the only cop he _knew_ was honest.

"Dan," Leonard started, "I have an intruder in my house." Jim listened to McCoy's side of the conversation as the doctor continued. "I have a strong suspicion of who it is, yes." Another pause, "Yeah, I can figure out why, too. That's why I can't call the cops on this Dan. Not officially. I at _least_ need another eye-witness." ('One who's actually alive,' he thought).

Dan agreed to head over, since he lived relatively close, but insisted on calling for backup too. He handpicked who he contacted instead of going through dispatch, hoping he was choosing people who would actually stand up to Fitzgerald, if that's who it turned out to be.

Jim had gone back inside to keep an eye on the man, and suddenly popped back up beside McCoy's truck as it sat where he had stopped it, out of sight, down the driveway. "He found them, Bones. He's getting away."

"Okay, it's time I 'come home'." McCoy put the truck in gear and started back up the driveway.

"No, Bones." Jim seemed scared. "It's not worth it. Just wait for Dan. There are not a whole lot of places he can go."

"He could go into the woods. He could destroy the journals before we catch him with them. He could hide them." McCoy started ticking off possibilities. "This is our best chance to ever get this scum."

Jim kept trying to grab the wheel, but this far away from the house, he didn't really have much strength. He could make light things move. Nothing more. McCoy was getting irritated with his efforts. "Jim, just go try to stop him from leaving. Dan will be here soon, as well as police backup. We'll be fine, but you have to stop him from getting away with those journals." When all Jim did was sit there with his lost and scared little boy face, Bones said sternly, "Go!"

Jim was gone.

By the time Bones made it to the house, Jim had Fitzgerald cornered in the study. Any time the man tried to leave, Jim threw books at him, slammed doors in his face, or just pushed the bastard. Bones got to the study to find the older man completely terrified. Unfortunately, terrified people often do terrible things. Robert drew a gun that Jim hadn't even known the man had and starting shooting at air. One of the bullets found its way into Leonard's left shoulder. Fitzgerald didn't even seem to notice as he ran past the injured man when Jim suddenly became too occupied with his friend to go after the killer anymore.

Bones had hit the wall, as the bullet hit him, and was now sliding down, fighting to keep the pain and fear off his face. He was a doctor. He _knew_ the bullet was too close to his heart.

"Go Jim," McCoy tried to say forcefully, and _almost_ managed the tone he was going for. "Don't let the bastard get away. Just buy some time. Dan'll be here soon."

"I'm not leaving you." Jim could be really stubborn when he wanted to be.

"I'll be here when you get back." McCoy promised, not speaking his thought of 'in some form or another'. "Go dammit!"

Jim reluctantly followed Fitzgerald out the back door as Dan entered the front.

"McCoy?" Dan yelled, sensing something was very wrong.

Leonard found he just didn't have the strength to yell back, and his nearly whispered, "back here" didn't carry. He managed to get his cell phone from his right hand coat pocket and pressed the button to sound the ring tone. Fortunately, Dan heard that and followed it to the study.

"Oh God, man," Dan sank beside McCoy. "Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Was gettin' 'way." Leonard slurred in response.

"Stupid Shit," Dan spit as he dialed 911 and asked for an ambulance. They were so far from town, though, that Dan had his doubts they'd be on time.

"Go help Jim," Bones whispered.

"No time for ghost stories, man." Dan ignored him as he usually did should he mention the ghost and pressed his handkerchief into Leonard's shoulder, praying backup and medical support would get there soon.

The next thing anyone knew, police officers were coming into the study and kneeling beside Dan.

"Did you find Fitzgerald? He broke in here and stole journals containing incrimination information, and shot Len." Dan was quick to catch up the newcomers.

"Yeah, he pretty much ran into us, begging us to help him. He was beaten up pretty bad but insisted a ghost wielding a two by four was the one who beat him up." The officer touched McCoy's shoulder to try to ground the man that he was sure was dying. "He was all shook up and babbling about flying books and slamming doors. Man's certifiable. Not that some of us didn't _always_ think so. Just could never do anything about it before."

"Thanks Pete," Dan mumbled, but whether he was thanking him for the update or for trying to lend support to his friend, he wasn't sure.

Leonard smirked a little, satisfied smile as his eyes slipped closed. Then his face went lax.

"Did you call and ambulance?" Pete whispered, as though a louder voice would wake the stricken man.

"Yeah. Already on its way." Dan responded in the same tone.

Pete left Dan to tend to McCoy and went outside to direct the ambulance when it got there and to assure that Fitzgerald didn't get away or hurt anyone. Honestly, Pete wasn't sure he was needed in either capacity. He just couldn't stand in that room and watch another good man die because of a powerful man seemingly above the law for decades.

Jim suddenly appeared beside Bones, scaring Dan half to death.

"Shit! He really _was_ seeing a ghost all this time?"

Jim didn't have time for this. "Yeah! Deal with it! Did you call the damned ambulance?"

Dan was taken aback. He didn't know what he expected should he ever have a conversation with a ghost, but this certainly wasn't it.

"Yeah, it's…." He stopped when he heard it pull up in the front yard. "It's here."

Jim cupped Leonard's face in ghostly hands and spoke gently to him. "Bones. Hang on, Bones. They're here. They'll help. Please hang on."

McCoy seemed to rouse when he heard Jim. " 's okay, Jim. We'll be together."

"We _are_ together, Bones. Don't do this. Fight dammit! Don't you fucking die on me!"

Dan was so affected by the obvious bond these men had, that he forgot for a second that one was actually dead. But he realized he needed to get Jim out of there. "Jim, you need to disappear. You can stay, just stay out of sight."

"You think I give a damn whether anyone sees me?"

"Jim," He spoke mildly, as if to a child. "Is he going to get the best care if the EMT's are freaking out over a ghost?"

Jim would hope that the men would be more professional than that, and could tell that Dan hoped the same, but neither were willing to chance it. Jim faded from view, but Dan figured he hadn't really gone far.

At just that moment, two EMT's carried a gurney into the room and took over Dan's spot by McCoy's side. They quickly got him as stabilized as they were likely to be able to and started carrying him outside. McCoy roused with a vengeance.

"No! Jim!" The EMT's kept going, putting the man's mutterings down to shock. "Can't leave. Don't know if I can get back if I die someplace else."

"You're not gonna die, man." Dan tried to peddle a sentiment he didn't believe.

"Jim!" But the last of Leonard's renewed strength ran out and he passed out again.

Jim walked alongside the gurney all the way to the ambulance. Dan wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did. He also could tell the moment the ghost left. Dan stood there a while longer, watched the ambulance leave, and went back inside.

"Jim?" He felt silly calling into thin air, but he couldn't really disbelieve in ghosts anymore. He walked back to the study, figuring that would be where he'd fine the ghost. What he saw broke his heart.

Jim was huddled up against the wall where McCoy had slumped just moments before. His knees were drawn up tight to his chest and he was crying.

Dan knelt down beside him, but had no idea how to comfort the ghost.

Jim spoke first. "This is my fault. He was trying to help me and I got him killed."

"He's not dead yet, Jim. He's a fighter. You should know that." Dan reached out toward Jim but didn't know if he'd be able to touch the ghost, so he let it drop. "Don't give up on him."

Jim didn't say anything, so Dan continued. "You wanna ride with me to the hospital? Or can you… I don't know…sort of just zap yourself there?"

Jim didn't even look up, "It doesn't work that way. I can't leave the house. Not very far anyway."

Dan had no idea what to say to that, so he reached out again, and this time put his hand on Jim's barely solid shoulder and promised, "I'll come back and tell you how he is…just as soon as I know."

Jim just nodded, not really expecting the man to do it, but he appreciated the gesture.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Eight hours later, Dan sat at McCoy's bedside in intensive care as the man started to stir.

"Jim," he muttered before he was even completely awake.

"Don't start thrashing around, Len," Dan put a steadying hand on his friend's shoulder. "You've been through a really long surgery and you're not completely out of the woods yet. Just take it easy."

"Can't die here, Dan. Can't leave Jim alone again."

"You're not going to die, man." Dan repeated the same words he used hours ago, but this time he was actually starting to believe it. McCoy still looked like shit, but his color was back…well, at least somewhat, the blood he had lost had been replaced, and he was being fed and medicated through an IV. The doctor's had said that all he had to do now was take it easy for a good long while and he _should_, eventually, be good as new.

"Now that you're awake, I'm going to visit until you conk out again, like the old man that you are, and I'll go tell Jim the news."

Bones looked confused, "You saw Jim?"

"Yeah, Len, I did." Dan confirmed. "He's really worried about you. He's already been wallowing in that house for eight hours thinking I'm not keeping my promise to report on your condition, so I'll head out soon and change his mind about my promise-keeping abilities."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Jim?" Dan thought that he would feel silly calling out to thin air again, but he found that this time, he just really didn't. "Come on, Casper! Where are you?" He wandered through the whole downstairs and headed upstairs toward the bedroom, remembering all those ghost stories that Len had told him…how the ghost seemed to be stronger in the bedroom because that's where he had died. As he entered the room, he could just barely make out a ghostly form on the queen-sized bed. "Jim? What's going on? Why can I barely see you."

"Takes too much concentration." The ghost seemed to have just enough energy to mumble an answer.

"He's going to be fine, Jim." He tried to touch the ghost and his hand slid through to the mattress. "Man, you make me tell Len he'll be coming home to an empty house because you didn't have the goddamned balls to hang on while he was gone, I'm going to find a fucking way to haunt _your_ ass!"

"He's coming home?" Jim seemed just a little more solid than a moment before, and there was a little more life in his voice.

"Not anytime soon, but yeah, you halfwit. I _told_ you he was going to be fine."

"You told him he wasn't going to die, too, even though you didn't believe it, so…"

"And it turned out I was _right,_ didn't it?" Dan was surprised by how easy it was to just accept Jim as another part of life. Nothing at all unusual having what amounted to an argument with a ghost.

Jim sat up and concentrated a little harder. When he thought he was probably as solid as he was going to be able to manage for the moment, he looked Dan in the eye. "You swear he's going to be okay?"

"What are we? Five?" Dan spit back with no heat at all as he crossed his heart and held up his right hand in the 'boy scout' symbol. "Yes. He's really going to be fine. It'll take a while, but he'll be his old cranky self in no time."

Jim sat in silence for a moment, just taking that in. "What about Fitzgerald?" He finally asked.

Dan chuckled. "Whatever you did to him still had him so flustered by the time he got to the precinct that he pretty much fessed up to everything. He still had the journals on him too, so between those and his confession, I imagine he's going away for a long time, even though he's trying to recant all of it again." Dan looked directly at the ghost. "Too bad you couldn't pop down to the jail and put a little 'fear of ghosts' into him again."

"He's recanting the whole thing?" Jim was incredulous. "He's just going to skate again?"

"Not this time, no. I don't think so." Dan answered. "We have the confession in _great_ detail and that detail matches what was in the journals. The confession was _after _we Mirandized him. We caught him red-handed stealing 'incriminating evidence' and Len can testify against him about the last shooting. Besides, now that the mighty has fallen, you'd be surprised at just how many people are coming out of the woodwork with 'evidence' and 'testimony'." Dan patted Jim's shoulder. "He's going away." Then more quietly, "Does that mean you will? Is that why you're already fading?" He squeezed Jim's arm just a little. "You know that will _kill_ Len, right? So if you have _any _control over it…"

"That's not why I was fading." Jim assured. "I know Bones always thought that once the bastard was caught for all the murders, that I'd… cross over…find peace…_something._ He had me pretty convinced, too. I even asked him to stop investigating, just in case. But now… I don't think it works that way. I'm not sure how it _does_ work… but I know I don't really feel like I'm going anywhere…or that I _want _to go anywhere…or anything. No light…no ancestors… not even any shadows rising up to drag me to Hell." Jim smiled for the first time since Dan had met him. "I think Bones is stuck with me."

"You know that he's very _happy_ to be stuck with you," Dan said seriously, "and you with him."

Jim smiled even wider. He was beginning to think that everything might be okay after-all.

0o0o0o0o0o0

McCoy was in the hospital for eleven days, all told. He finally came home the second Saturday after the shooting. Dan ushered him into the house and was going on and on about how he still had to take it easy, just as Jim practically knocked the recovering man over with a relieved embrace.

"Jim," Dan admonished. "He's _supposed _to take it easy for a while. So no tackling."

"No promises," the ghost smirked as he hugged his friend even tighter.

McCoy patted his friend's back but Jim could tell the doctor was already becoming fatigues.

"Come on, old man, let's get you upstairs before you fall over."

"Who you calling 'old', you're older than me, remember?"

The banter gave Dan his cue to leave with promises to check in on Len soon, and with a parting reminder. "Don't forget, the doctor said it should be at _least_ a week before you even go in to work on light duty. Don't rush it."

As soon as Dan had closed the front door, Jim got an impish look on his face. "The way you're moving, it'll take you the whole week just to get upstairs."

When Bones just harrumphed, Jim continued. "Come on, Bones. I'll race you." The ghost then disappeared and hit his friend on the back of the head with a disembodied hand.

"Brat!" McCoy called and heard laughter from the second floor as he shuffled up the stairs.

End


End file.
